


Let That Be A Lesson

by vampireisthenewblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek POV, Dubious Consentacles, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other, Plant!Sex, Snark, Xeno, anal penetration, dub-con, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireisthenewblack/pseuds/vampireisthenewblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek finds Stiles in a compromising position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let That Be A Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Writers block. Again. This attempt to break it results in dub-con plantporn, edging, erotic asphyxiation and reckless!dumbass!Stiles. IDEK.
> 
> It's a lame premise, and I've shown no concern for canon or reality. You have been warned.
> 
> [venis_envy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy), thank you for all the things.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/4905.html?thread=555049#t555049) on the kink meme.

Derek stares at the garbled text message on the screen and frowns.

_Hell! Plamkt gome inpreservevomrnow_

He shakes his head and hits the call button.

It rings and rings. He's about to hang up when Stiles picks up the call.

"What the hell, Stiles? Where are you?"

" _Derek? Oh my god, Derek._ " Stiles is shouting, but his voice is distant. He lets out a sound that's half pained groan and half helpless whimper. " _Get me out of here, please, I'm in the preserve—oh shit._ "

Wind whistles in Derek's ear, then cuts off with a thud. Derek shoves his phone into his pocket and heads out.

He finds Stiles' phone at the base of a tree. There's no scent leading away, not Stiles, not anyone or anything who could have taken him, either. He crouches down, picks up the phone, brings a handful of dead leaves to his nose, just in case there's something faint there, but there's nothing.

There's a sound from above him. A soft breath, shuddering out of human lungs. Derek freezes, then slowly lifts his eyes.

The vines wrapping the tree block Derek's line of sight with thick, leafy foliage. "Stiles?"

There's a gasp from above. "Derek? Oh my god. Up here. I'm a little—" Stiles moans, long, drawn out, ending with a shudder. "A little stuck."

"What's got you?" Derek asks. "What am I dealing with?" He reaches up, wraps his hand around one of the thick vines that snake around the tree and pulls himself up.

"It's the tree. The vine. It's got me all tangled up and—oh, oh god—"

Derek keeps climbing.

Stiles is wrapped around the trunk of the tree. His arms span the girth, not quite meeting on the other side, and his cheek is pressed to the bark. There's a vine wrapped around his throat, a thick one around his waist, and thinner vines spiral his limbs. "What the hell, Stiles? How long have you been here?"

"Couple of hours?" Stiles moans, soft and strained. "I was curious, okay? You know that book Deaton has? Old thing, fairy tales about Beacon Hills back in the olden days. The Nemeton and druids and werewolves and... Well, this." He turns his head, scraping the skin of his cheek on the rough bark so he can look at Derek. "I had to see if it was still here."

Derek shakes his head. "I've lived in Beacon Hills most of my life. I've never heard of this. A plant that, what, kidnaps people?"

"It doesn't kidnap so much as grab on when you climb up."

There's a tickle at Derek's ankle, and he pulls his foot free of it, kicks away the questing vine. "You came up here on purpose? Knowing you'd get trapped?"

"I didn't think it'd be half the day," Stiles says, letting out a little shudder and moan as he stops speaking. "I figured it would do its thing and let me down, but it's just a tease." His cheeks pink as he blushes, and he lifts an eyebrow. "You _have_ figured out what's going on here, right?"

Derek frowns and sniffs. There's the heavy scent of arousal clinging to the air, but he blocks that out most of the time. People stink of it, teenagers more so, and Stiles is no exception. It's heavier than usual though, in a way he should have noticed but didn't. "You're enjoying this," he whispers. "This is why you came looking for it."

"Not my proudest moment, but yeah." Stiles shrugs as best he can while wrapped tightly in vines. "The edging wasn't in the brochure, though, and I'm ready to get down now."

When Derek looks closely, he notices that the vines weave in under Stiles' clothes as well as over them. When he sees a vine moving in the waistband of Stiles' pants, he quickly looks back up at Stiles' face, just in time to see Stiles' eyes roll into the back of his head, his forehead crease, and his lips part on a shaky sigh. Stiles' skin is flushed, and his heartbeat is erratic. "I didn't sign up for this," Derek says, and starts to climb back down.

"Derek, please." Stiles' breath is heavier now. "I could starve to death up here, if it doesn't tease me to death first. You've gotta help me."

"I'll call Scott," Derek says.

"Deaton'll never let me look at his books again," Stiles pleads. "You _know_ Scott will tell him. Just slice through a couple vines with your handy dandy claws and get me down so I can go home and get off. _Please_."

Derek stops climbing, closes his eyes tightly, breathes through his mouth. It doesn't help. Now that he's let the scent of Stiles' arousal in, he can't block it out again, and it's starting to affect him. A vine wraps tightly around his wrist as he's attempting to gain some control, another snakes around his upper thigh, both seeming to tug him back up.

Derek goes with it, climbing back to where Stiles is trapped before he tries to uncoil the vine twisting around his wrist. "Huh," he says, because it's stronger than it looks. He flicks out a claw and slices through it.

Immediately, the vine around Derek's thigh tightens, cutting off his circulation.

Stiles starts to gasp and moan. "Can't breathe," he rasps, jerking in the vines. "Help."

"I won't do it again," Derek says quickly, his eyes moving up and around, not knowing if he's talking to the vine or the tree or just the forest around them. "I swear."

The coil around his thigh loosens, Stiles breathes normally again. "Dammit," Derek says.

"We're screwed," Stiles whispers, his eyes moving down over Derek's body.

He's watching the vines as they twist around Derek's torso, spiraling up from his waist, down his arms and legs. They pull taut, pinning Derek to the tree half-draped over Stiles' body, his cheek pressed to the trunk just like Stiles, so their faces are only inches apart. "No," Derek says. "There's gotta be a way out of this. There's got to be something it wants."

"To bring us to the brink of orgasm and then stop over and over again until we simply die of blue balls?"

Something cold and smooth snakes in under Derek's shirt and drags over his nipples. He shivers as they harden. "Not helpful, Stiles." Another vine wriggles past the waistband of his jeans.

"It seems the most logical answer, at this point." He wriggles, frowns. "Dude, is that your dick I can feel?"

Derek resists the urge to growl. "No," he lies, even though he's hardening rapidly against Stiles' hip, due to the slim vine wrapped around the base of his dick, slowly coiling up the length.

"It is," Stiles crows. "It totally is." He shivers. "At least you have something warm to rub off on when it leaves you hanging." His head jerks up. "That is so unfair. All I have is tree, and rough? Not really my thing."

"I am _not_ ," Derek says, "rubbing off on you." He pushes against the bonds, trying to slide sideways, just enough, but the plant pulls back, leaving Derek even more on top of Stiles, their faces even closer together, so close that Derek can feel the warmth of Stiles' breath. "Fuck."

"Don't fight it, man. You're just making it worse." Stiles moans and stiffens.

Derek can feel the vine down Stiles' pants wriggling against his belly. He can't help thinking the obvious, that the other end of it is inside Stiles, perhaps teasing at his prostate, perhaps coiled thick and stretching him open. His hips give an involuntary thrust and he groans as he rubs his dick against Stiles' ass cheek through layers of cloth.

Stiles shakes and quivers beneath him, heart beating wildly, arousal coming off him in waves. The vine encases Derek's cock, a spiral that winds down, then up, then down again. He swallows his groan of pleasure, then lets it out because there's no one here to hear him except Stiles, and Stiles is louder.

Stiles is lost. Derek's almost certain that if he spoke, Stiles wouldn't hear him. His eyes are closed, his lips are open, quick gasps and soft moans coming from his mouth. His lips are swollen and red, he's beautiful like this, and the urge to kiss him is almost overpowering. It could be just the two of them here as Stiles moans with the intensity of being fucked open and the vine on Derek's dick is as tight as the feeling of being inside someone.

"It's inside you," Derek says. "Isn't it?"

Stiles' eyelids flutter open. "Shut up." He grimaces, whines, gives a full-body shudder and then snaps his mouth shut. His hips rock, sending even more stimulation to Derek's cock.

"It is. It's fucking you, Stiles. You're being fucked by a plant."

Stiles' eyes open wide and he laughs, but it's cut off as he groans in pleasure. "The words 'let that be a lesson' have kinda lost all meaning," he whispers.

"Yeah." Derek focuses on the feeling of the vine on his dick, and he watches Stiles' face. Any moment now, he thinks, as Stiles' heartbeat races, as his moans turn to high pitched cries.

"You're gonna come," Derek whispers against Stiles' lips. "I can hear it, how close you are."

Stiles opens his eyes, gives a weak nod. "Please," he pants. "I need to."

"Yeah." The vine jerks Derek quicker, harder. He's getting close himself. Maybe the plant just wanted two of them, he doesn't even know, but he's so close there's almost no holding him back, and Stiles is right on the edge.

Everything stops.

Derek lets out a grunt of disappointment.

"Nooooo," Stiles groans. "No fucking way. I need to come, you bastard weed, let me come."

Derek grinds against Stiles' ass cheek.

"Thought you said you weren't gonna rub off on me."

"Shut up," Derek says.

"Can you shift a little to the right?"

Derek does, slotting his cock between Stiles' cheeks. The coil, still around his cock, unmoving but firm, creates delicious friction. Beneath that, beneath his own jeans and Stiles' pants, he can feel the vine lying between the cheeks of Stiles' ass.

"Yeah, like that," Stiles breathes, and pushes back. "Keep doing that."

Derek figures he's driving the vine in Stiles' ass deeper as he thrusts, perhaps making a coil rub over his prostate. Stiles moans when he thrusts, shudders, and Derek can hear his fingernails scraping over the bark on the other side of the tree. Turning his wrist, he finds Stiles' hand, links their fingers together. He drags his nose up the back of Stiles' neck, licks to taste the salt of his sweat.

"Please please please," Stiles begs. "So fucking close."

"Yeah," Derek says. "Yeah, me too." He thrusts again, slow, holding back just a little so Stiles can get there first. Then the vines around Derek's waist yank him backward. Another wraps around his throat and pulls tight, cutting off his breath almost completely. He gasps for what little air he can get, and the skin on his face feels too tight, too hot.

The coil on his cock starts to move again, jerking him off, quick and fast.

"Derek? What's happening, Derek?" Stiles says, straining his neck to see what's going on. "Oh god. Please don't kill him. Let him starve to death, or die of blue balls, just please don't kill him right in front of me."

Derek can't speak to let Stiles know that that's not what is happening. He's too short of air, too close to orgasm. He knows this feeling, knows there's no stopping it now, knows it's going to blow his mind when it comes. Kate liked to play dangerous games, and he fights the panic that comes from the memory of her alone, pushes it away so he doesn't scare Stiles.

The plant stops jerking him off a moment before he comes, and then his vision whites out, the pleasure peaks, washes over him in rolling waves. The loop around his throat comes away, his arms are freed, and once he's clinging desperately to the vines on the trunk of the tree itself, the others loosen and fall.

He's still shaking with aftershocks when he lays his cheek on the back of Stiles' neck.

"You okay?" Stiles says. "I thought you were gonna die for sure that time."

"Mmm," Derek says. He tries again. "I'm good. Kinky plant. Did it choke you?"

"Couple of times, yeah. I freaked out and it stopped."

"Let it."

Stiles stiffens, lets out a shaky breath.

"I'm here, Stiles." Derek puts his hand on Stiles' throat, over the vine. "You're safe."

Stiles looks up at him from the corner of his eye. Then he nods. "Okay."

Derek feels the vine tighten under his hand. A moment later Stiles moans and writhes. He rasps when he breathes, and his face grows warm and pink. "You're okay," Derek whispers. Then he slides his hand down Stiles' chest, over his stomach, and works open the fly of his pants.

As he suspected, there's no vine wrapped around Stiles' dick. He wraps his hand around it, starts to stroke in time with the movement of the vine he can feel sliding in and out of Stiles' ass.

"Oh my god," Stiles gasps. "Oh. My. _God_."

"Derek's fine," Derek whispers into the back of Stiles' neck.

Stiles rocks, perhaps with laughter, more likely with the orgasm Derek can feel building inside him. When the vine stops wriggling against his belly, he slows the movement of his hand, feels the surge as Stiles starts to come, ejaculate hitting the trunk of the tree in violent spurts.

The vines fall away from Stiles' limbs as he jerks and cries out. Derek catches him, wraps an arm around his chest, keeps him from falling. He holds him until the shudders fade away, breathes into the hair at the base of Stiles' skull, drops wet kisses on the back of his neck, like he's forgotten that they're not really anything to each other. "Why'd you call me," he whispers, "and not Scott?"

Stiles hums sleepily and presses back into Derek's arms. "I had a plant up my ass. He never would have let me live it down. You already think I'm a freak. No harm done there."

Derek chuckles softly. "Can you get down on your own?"

Derek climbs slowly, staying right below Stiles, ready to catch him as he works his way down on weak knees.

When they're both on the ground, Stiles won't meet his eyes. "You're not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?"

Derek shakes his head. "Maybe you should stop and think before you do anything that comes out of Deaton's books though." He clears his throat. "And if you need to get off, there's much safer ways to go about it, you know."

Stiles looks up. He lifts one eyebrow in a silent question.

Derek tries not to grin back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading, please hit the [Kudos ♥] button.
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/vampthenewblack/) | [dreamwidth](http://vampthenewblack.dreamwidth.org)  
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